


Old Friend, New Beginnings

by Tudor_Rose



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Happy Ending, Homeless Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Parenthood, Past Abuse, Past Brainwashing, Recovered Memories, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Therapy, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-04-26 02:24:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14392248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tudor_Rose/pseuds/Tudor_Rose
Summary: After the events of Project Insight, a chance encounter with his one time friend gives Steve a new goal, bring Bucky home and help him recover by giving him the life he was deprived of for so long while trying to rekindle a friendship.





	1. Chapter 1

“You sure you wanna do this, man? You’re only out of hospital, what, three weeks?” Sam asked, following Steve as he filled a bottle of water. “Could always do a rain check.”

“I need to get out of this house, Sam.” He took a large gulp. “I’m losing my mind.”

“All the shit that’s gone down, this is what drives you crazy?”

“Certainly doesn’t help,” He smirked, pulling on his sneakers. He grabbed his keys. “Coming?”

Sam sighed, holding his hands up in surrender. “Ready when you are, Cap. But you pass out, I ain’t flying you home.”

“We’ll see,” Steve chuckled. It had been almost two months since the Helicarrier incident over the Potomac and after being released from hospital, under strict orders to rest, he’d been dying to get out of the house, clear his still racing mind. A good jog was just what he needed.

His jaw still involuntarily tensed every time he pictured those punches, each one made his teeth shake at the time. He knew him for years, but he had no notion that Bucky could be so vicious; he was ready to kill, Steve was sure he was ready to kill him.

“He pulled me from the water.” Steve said, keeping the pace.

“After he kicked the crap outta you, you mean.” Sam replied, glancing at Steve out of the corner of his eye.

“He remembered me,” he muttered. “He saved me, Sam.”

“Don’t doubt that, Cap. Just be careful, all I’m saying.” He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried, more so than he let on after seeing the state Steve had been found in. The guy had almost caved his face in! He’d been at his bedside everyday until he woke up, he’d been there throughout his recovery, splitting his time between the VA and keeping Steve informed on any lead he had as he scoured the skies for their elusive assassin, a task which was proving almost impossible the more time went on. The guy had just vanished.

He stopped to catch his breath, panting.

“He’s out there somewhere,” Steve sighed.

Sam gives a tight smile, patting his back. “We’ll find him, Cap.”

He knew how much he meant to him, he’d listened to everything Steve had told him about Bucky and their childhood, how they’d first met when Bucky defended him from a group of bullies who had been beating him in the schoolyard. Ever since that day, they’d been inseparable. They’d went everywhere together, shared what little money they had between them. He’d never forget the time Bucky bought him a Coca Cola and chocolate bar for his birthday.

_A thin boy sat on the sidewalk outside Bride’s Candy Store, watching a flock of pigeons gather across the street, pecking for scraps. Picking up a stone, he lazily tossed it at them, watching them scatter before slowly return. He threw another, watching them do it again. About to pick up another, he felt someone tap his head, whistling. He looked up so see Bucky standing above him, holding a bottle and what appeared to be a candy bar in his hands. He held them out to him, smiling._

_“What’s that?” He asked, throwing away the stone as he looked at the bottle and candy._

_“It’s for your birthday, stupid.” Bucky snorted, putting them into his hands._

_Steve got up, sighing. “Bucky, I told you. I don’t need any-“_

_“Hey! Get back here you little shit!”_

_“Oh God! Stevie run!” He yelled, already ahead of him. It didn’t take Steve long to catch up._

“Didn’t take him for a Little Rascals type,” Sam said, scratching the back of his head as he tired to picture a younger Bucky. “Think that’s understandable to say, given what we’ve seen.”

“Was mostly like that. Would steal a little, fight, but there’s not a kid who wouldn’t do one or the other at some point in our neighbourhood. He was a little rough, but he wasn’t a bad kid; what you saw, believe it or not, that’s not him.”

“Have to take your word for it.” Sam replied, glancing at Steve as they ran. His face was focused as he sank deeper into his thoughts; even during the war the images of skinned knees and a dirty, smiling face were never too far from his mind. The violence, the ferocity of his attack; he was like an angry child, he knew him, he was sure of that, what could they have possibly done to him?

They stopped, stretching as they came to the entrance of Lafayette Square. Steve did a quick few lunged, feeling the lactic acid burning the muscles in his legs, Sam rotating his hips to work out a stiffening in his lower back.

“You gonna quit on me, Sam?” He asked with a smirk.

“You’re pretty confident for an old dude.” Sam replied, his lip twisting into a grin of his own. “You ready to keep going? It’s cool if you tap out now.” He was playful, confident. Sam wasn’t willing to let him off easy for the first time they met and he wasn’t afraid of a challenge. Steve readied himself, twisting his body before tensing his legs.

“You kidding? I could do this all day.” Steve said before pushing himself forward, running into the park. Due to the weather, the usually quiet area was bustling with activity. Fellow joggers ran along the paths, others relaxed on the grass, while their kids ran around them screaming and laughing. An ice cream truck sat parked by a playpark, its musical tune echoing.

“Can’t remember the last time I had a snow cone!” Sam laughed as they jogged past.

This gave Steve an idea. He stopped, indicating towards the colourful van. “I’ll make you a deal, then. Race you to the War Memorial. You win, I’ll buy.”

Sam balked. “That’s half a mile away!”

“Not for me!” Steve laughed, speeding ahead of him, despite the other’s loud groan. He ran through the park, past the statues and the ponds and fountains, watching people throw bread to the ducks and pigeons. With his pace, he went mostly unnoticed which was nice. No one crowding him or asking for autographs or photographs. Of course, not that he minded. He was always more than happy to make people smile, to stop for a picture or a quick talk now and then but he also enjoyed the peace too. Only some noticed him for who he was, giving him friendly nods and smiles, one even saluting.

He saluted back with a smile, watching as the elderly man approached him. He held out a thin hand, shaking slightly. “It…an honour to meet you, Captain Rogers.”

“Honour is all mine, sir.” Steve replied, clasping the other’s hand.  

They talked, reminiscing about the war, old friends and how life had been. The ‘good ol’ days’ he called them. It did feel nice though, to be able to talk to someone who shared the same memories as him, who had lived through the same era as he did. While he knew he could confide in Sam, Natasha and sometimes Tony, there were just some things they’d never understand. So for now, he was content to listen to the man as he joked, laughed and shared stories of his time serving.

He’d become somewhat distracted listening to the man’s stories that he didn’t notice another man approaching them. Steve turned when he felt the man colliding with him, his body steering with the force of the push. He was dressed in a heavy jacket and a battered baseball cap; inappropriate for the humid day. He didn’t break his stride as he nudged his way passed the old man, almost pushing him off his feet with his bulk; he was big, much younger. Steve didn’t like his attitude.

“Hey, buddy.” Steve said, helping the old man steady himself from the blow.

“No respect these days, no respect at all.” The man huffed with a ragged breath, winded from the push.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, pal!” Steve called to the man, a bit more forcefully as he reached out, taking him by the arm and pulling him back by the sleeve.  As he turned, Steve caught a glimpse of his face. His hair was long and greasy, hanging down his face. He had a sheen of sweat on his forehead and cheeks, his face unshaven. The man’s eyes grew wide with panic, under the hair and grime his face was still as recognizable as ever.

“Bucky?” Steve asked in disbelief, his hand still holding onto his sleeve. He held up his other hand in what he hoped to be a reassuring gesture. “Buck. It’s me.”

He watched as the man swallowed heavily, his breathing increased as his eyes darted frantically for an escape route. He tugged his arm, attempting to pull away but Steve continued to hold him.

“Buck! It’s okay, It’s-“ Steve felt a sudden, blinding pain in the bridge of his nose as Bucky brought his forehead into his face, ripping his arm from Steve’s fingers. He staggered backwards, panting, looking anxiously around him at the shocked faces staring back at him before fleeing as fast as he could.

“Buck stop!” Steve yelled, sprinting after him. He tried to keep him in sight as he dodged around people, apologising to those be accidentally knocked in his attempt to catch up to his once friend. “Buck!” He called out again, but Bucky kept running and Steve began to feel his heart sink. He was going to lose him. Again.

“Hey! Cap!” A familiar voice called suddenly. He looked up to see Sam jogging towards him, waving.

“Sam!” Steve called, still running. “On your left!”

Sam stopped, raising an eyebrow. “Say what?”

“Grab him!”

 _Aw shit!_ Instinctively he moved to place himself in front of Bucky’s path, reaching out and grabbing him by the collar, his foot moving back to brace himself as he tried to slow the other man down. Bucky pushed off, taking his full weight off his feet as he threw his shoulder into Sam’s chest like a linebacker. Winded, Sam practically bounced as Bucky slammed him into the ground before rolling back onto his feet, unscathed

While Sam remained on his back, Steve watched as Bucky fled. He watched as he became smaller and smaller until the last thing Steve saw was him glancing over his shoulder before disappearing completely.

“Remind me never to do that again,” Sam groaned, slowly sitting up.

“Yeah, maybe not my best idea.” Steve offered, pulling the man to his feet.

“No? What gave it away? Other than me being knocked on my ass.” He patted himself down. “He panic?”

“Doesn’t matter now.” Steve sighed dejectedly. “He’s gone.”

Whatever hint of frustration Sam might have felt slowly faded as he looked at Steve, staring blankly in the direction Bucky had ran. There was hopelessness in his face, like he’d just lost his once change to bring his friend home.

“Hey, man.” Comfortingly he gripped his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Like I said before, we’ll find him. Just going to take some time, that’s all.” He put on his most reassuring smile. “He’s alive. That’s what counts.”

Steve nodded, looking down at his feet.

“Well I don’t know about you but I could do with a cold one.” Sam said, stretching. Best try and change the topic, if even only for Steve’s sake. The poor guy really wasn’t having a great time where his former friend was concerned.

“Sure,” he replied. A drink sounded good. He’d try to focus on that.

Together they made their way back through the park, the sun now beginning to set as orange rays shown through the branches of the trees, casting shadows. As they waited at the beverage stand, Steve found his thoughts still drifting back to Bucky, the look in his eyes and how he struggled. He was scared.

He felt a nudge to his arm. “You, man?”

He seemed confused for a moment, frowning before he remembered. Oh right, the drink. “Um,” he looked over the many options. “A coke, please.”

“One dollar, sir.” The vendor replied.

“Sure,” Steve replied, reaching into his pocket only to pat a seemingly empty space. His face dropped. _Wait._ He reached into his other pocket. He then patted his rear pockets. _Hold on a minute._

“You there okay, Steve?” Sam asked, moving closer.

He repeated the actions a few more times. His face dropped as he checked again, his hands quickly patting each pocket, even checking the rarely used back pockets, confirming his suspicion.

“Son of a-“


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, here's chapter 2! Had a bit of writers block for a bit there so kudos to my fiance' for helping me with this one! I will try to update on a regular basis as chapter 3 is underway so stay tuned!

“I’m surprised he let himself get caught so easily,” Natasha said, cutting into her cheesecake with the side of her fork. “If you were any quicker we wouldn’t be having this conversation; he made a sloppy job of it.”

“You sound like you know an awful lot about pick pocketing.” Sam said teasingly between a sip of coffee. Steve had called Nat as soon as Bucky resurfaced, hoping she might be able to lend a hand to their little investigation. The café they met up at was starting to fill, so they took their order outside, away from any unwanted ears; it was a nice day out, so they were thankful for the crowd as the sat at their table with their jackets draped over the decorative chairs.

“Useful skill,” Natasha replied, skewering her cheesecake and taking a bite. “Credit cards, passports, wallets. You can learn a lot from the inside of somebody’s pocket or purse. Some of the better ops could slip a wedding band right off your finger, you none the wiser.”

“If I had one, I wouldn’t have noticed if he took it after body slamming my ass.”

“Do you have an idea what his next move could be?” Steve asked, introducing creamer into an already milky cup of tea. “It was such a shock to see him, so I wouldn’t have a clue were to start.”

“A safehouse, maybe.” Natasha replied through another mouthful of cheesecake.

“A safehouse? Tasha, I don’t exactly think this guy’s got the resources to hunker down that well.”

Natasha held her finger up before taking a swallow of coffee to empty her mouth. “I mean in a manner of speaking, Sam. He hit you in broad day light, almost got caught, so you’ve shaken him a little. He’ll be seeing slip ups everywhere, mistakes he could make. He won’t take that chance again. He’ll have gone to ground for sure.”

“And our chances of finding him were slim as it is.” Steve sighed, adding more creamer to his tea.

“You wanna go easy on the milk there, buddy?”

“He’ll limit his movements,” Natasha cut in. “But he can’t just disappear. This guy used to be a ghost, your go to invisible man. If he’s hiding, he’s in plain sight.”

“So how do we find a guy who could be right in front of us?” Sam asked, scratching the back of his head.

“How did you describe him to me again?”

“Robin Williams circa the Fisher King.” Sam replied as he started picking the blueberries out of his muffin. “This guy’s been on the street for a while.”

“Then that’s where you look.”

“Nat, come on.” Steve cut in, hopeless irritation in his voice. “I appreciate you helping us with this, but that’s a little vague, don’t you think?”

“Is it?” She asked confidently, taking the creamer out of Steve’s hand before he could add more to his now completely white tea. “Who’s the one group in any city that’s overlooked, right in plain sight?”

Steve sat for a moment, his eyes glued to the table as he rubbed the back of his neck. He felt deflated, his failure to catch his friend starting to weigh on him. He closed his eyes, sighing, before Natasha’s question really hit him. He opened his eyes, looking up at her. Why couldn’t he see it before?

“The homeless.”

***

“So, go over this for me again.” Sam began as he unfastened his seatbelt. “What’s the plan?”

“We stick together for the time being.” Steve replied, slowly circling an area of the laminated tourist map with the bottom of his sharpie. “We’ll cover convenient stores and restaurants in the immediate area, anywhere with a dumpster that disposes of food at the end of the night.”

“Might get lucky and catch him rooting.”

“Or we can ask anyone who might have seen him.” Steve nodded, before looking over the areas he circled on his own map. “Then we’ll look into shelters, he’s bound to have stayed in at least one at some point.”

“I think we can rule out Adam’s Place and the New York Avenue Men’s, a little too far out.”

“So we stick close to the area, which leaves us with Gospel Rescue, Covenant House, Blair House and Luther Place Night Shelter.” Steve accompanied each name by tapping the map with his pen. “We’ll go on patrol first, then we’ll split up and check the shelters.”

“I can hit Covenant House and Blair House. You take the car.” Sam said, nodding, a hint of confidence in the gesture.

“Got everything?” Steve asked, before both men produced their cell phones, small flashlights and a tourist map each with a red sharpie. “Then let’s go.”

Getting out of the car, they pocketed their maps and began their patrol of the neighbourhood, stopping any vagrants they crossed paths with. As a means of identification, Steve had sketched an image of Bucky, an old war photo which he had modified by adding a baseball cap, long hair and a patchy beard to try and approximate his current appearance.

“Could be any of us.” An older man with a moth bitten jacket said to them, shrugging, before pointing to a nearby trashcan.

“Yo, Hank! This guy here you?” His companion looked up from his search in the trash; if he were a little younger and his beard a little darker, his likeness to Bucky would have been uncanny.

“Wuh?” Hank grumbled with a heavy smokers growl, clutching a half eaten sandwich. “Wuh the fuc’ you talkin’ abou’?”

“See?” The first man exclaimed with a toothy yellow smile.

Most of their earlier enquiries were not too dissimilar, vagrants and rough sleepers shaking their heads, echoing the first point given; he could have been any one of them. It was only when they found themselves next to a dumpster in a back alley behind a deli did they start to make headway.

“Hey, that’s Joe!” Exclaimed a small, stooped man, who could only be described as a beard in a mountain of coats. When presented with the sketch, he began to point, clicking his fingers in an animated manner.

“Joe?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Joe. Young fella, quiet, twitchy lil’ eyes, built like a shithouse wall.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Steve asked, pocketing the picture.

The little man pondered, stroking his beard, the tip of his tongue peeking from the corner of his lips as he recalled. “Ain’t been here a couple of days. Usually comes Tuesdays, Turkey melt made that day, extras always thrown out that evening. Or Thursday, Thursday’s coleslaw. Whatcha lookin’ ‘im for, he in some kinda trouble?”

“He’s a friend of mine. Ran into him a week ago, I just want to know if he’s alright.”

“Seemed okay I last saw ‘im. I know some mutual people. I see ‘im, I let ya know. Tell some folks to keep an eye out of ‘im too.”

“That would be a great help, Marty.” Steve said, smiling as he took the mans hand, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. “We can’t thank you enough.”

“Don’t got much, but what I do got, should be thanking you for, Captain.” The old man said with a warm grin. Giving him some money to see him by, they set off again with renewed hope.

***

It seemed that Bucky had amassed quite a few aliases during his time in the homeless community. The man in Steve’s sketch was named as Max, Joseph, George and Kenny whenever he could be positively identified. Steve would have been sceptical if not for the consistent description; a young man, quiet, shifty eyed, well built despite his living situation. It couldn’t not be him.

After gathering what leads they could, the decision was made to split and head to their agreed shelters.

Upon arriving at Luther Place, he made a brief enquiry before having a look around while waiting for staff to get back to him. As his eyes skimmed through the dormitory, it saddened him to see just how many destitute occupied the beds and how many he knew were still in need of them. As he observed, he was brought back to a time when he and Bucky were poor, rationing everything they had with each other, from the bed to the bath.

Getting back into the car with his mind still reeling, he realised now that no matter how hard it seemed, how desperate they were at times to just get by, never once did they go without a roof over their heads despite the constant threat looming over their heads. Bucky had always made sure they had food to last, the rent paid and maybe sometimes a dollar or two to spare.

His phone vibrated, pulling him from his thoughts.

_Sam Wilson._

Maybe he’d found something.

Hastily turning down the radio, he answered. “Anything?”

_“Nothing, Cap. Never heard of the guy. You?”_

He shook his head, sighing dejectedly. “No.”

_“Give it time, man. We’ve only just started looking. Just gotta play the waiting game.”_

“I suppose so,” Steve replied, keeping his eyes peeled as he made his way to his next destination.

_“Where are you now?”_

“Coming off Vermont Avenue, on my way to Gospel Rescue.”

_“Cool. I’m heading to Blair House now so I’ll meet you there if I don’t find any-“_

The line went suddenly quiet, though Steve knew it wasn’t dead. He could still hear the wind and cars echoing. “Sam?”

No answer.

“Hello?”

_“Steve, just go with me on this. I’m not sure, but I’m gonna tail this guy.”_

“Is it him?” He asked, anxiously.

_“Can’t tell from here. Gonna try and get closer. I’ll keep you posted on where we are, just be ready to-“_

“Sam?”

_“Hey, wait a second! Hold on! I said stop!”_


End file.
